


Astronomy In Reverse

by pulseandhaze



Category: Warcraft, World of Warcraft
Genre: Catharsis, Emotions, Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, Pandaria, Tavern in the Mists, World of Warcraft: Mists of Pandaria, Yes Wrathion called him his friend, Yes its romantic, Young Love, it can be both
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 18:47:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20801228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pulseandhaze/pseuds/pulseandhaze
Summary: “It isn’t that I ‘doubt’ you—quite the opposite, if I’m honest. You put a shroud of mystery over everything you do, and, at first, I thought it was because you had no idea what you were doing. Now I know it’s just because you like it when people think you’re mysterious.”“I’m a black dragon,” Wrathion says in that tone that he does. “Everyone finds me mysterious, whether I’m trying or not.”Anduin and Wrathion have one of their many talks while Anduin recovers at the Tavern in the Mists. There is a first for everything, but even small firsts can feel like scaling mountains. Emotional vulnerability and general trying to keep to their canon voices to the best of my ability. Hopefully it feels like it just fits into the narrative.Title taken from Venus by Sleeping At Last.





	Astronomy In Reverse

“So, tell me,” Anduin starts, draping a hot face cloth over his eyes and the top of his head, “Where will you go when you’ve finished sending the Champion off on your series of wild goose chases?”

Wrathion scoffs indignantly, and his shoulders hunch slightly as he sinks a bit more into the hot spring. He wants to share his glower with Prince Anduin, but the towel closes off the boy’s vision, much to Wrathion’s dismay. Intentional, likely.

“It is no mere _‘wild goose chase,’_” he counters profoundly. “Everything has a place in my great design. She seems to trust that much of me. Do you doubt me, Anduin?”

“‘Doubt’ is a strong word.

“It isn’t that I ‘doubt’ you—quite the opposite, if I’m honest. You put a shroud of mystery over everything you do, and, at first, I thought it was because you had no idea what you _were_ doing. Now I know it’s just because you like it when people think you’re mysterious.”

“I’m a black dragon,” Wrathion says in that tone that he does. “Everyone finds me mysterious, whether I’m trying or not.”

It releases a small chuckle from Anduin that catches the both of them off guard. Wrathion smiles, the hint of a fang peaking between his lips.

“I suppose that’s true.”

Wrathion defaults to passively haughty. “Of course it is,” he says. “I only speak truths for you, my dear Prince.”

“Is that right?” Anduin drags the towel off his face and grips it like a whip, smacking Wrathion on his neck and upper chest across the way of the hot spring. Wrathion winces like it stings, but Anduin has no remorse, only smiles. “I’d believe you if you stopped doing _that_.”

“Doing _what?”_

“‘My dear _Prince_,’” Anduin mimics, his towel sliding back atop the bubbling water until it’s slung over his own shoulder.

“What’s wrong with that?” Wrathion asks. It’s genuine, if a bit concerned.

“Well… Who calls me that…?” Anduin muses, casting his gaze skyward. “At times my subjects, though I know better than to think you hold any allegiance to me as the son of a king. There are also those in my court, or friends of my father, doing it out of respect—again, due to my position—and moreover, out of respect for my father.

“And of course, there’s my aunt Jaina, who will call me varying titles of the sort when she _wants_ something.” He turns his head a bit and side-eyes the dragon. “It begs of me to ask if _you_ want something from me, Wrathion.”

Wrathion feels taken off guard, and his first instinct is to laugh, but he doesn’t. He sinks lower until his mouth blows bubbles in the spring.

He resurfaces a moment or so later, eyes never leaving Anduin’s face.

“Manipulation is the word you’re looking for,” he says. “But no. I don’t harbor any wish to manipulate you.”

He finally breaks away, glancing off to the side, towards the back entrance of the inn.

“Under normal circumstances, I would not be apt to… show my hand, one way or the other. I know how much manipulation can garner the upper hand, and I _value_ that knowledge. I value knowledge just as much as Azeroth herself.

“But with you…”

Wrathion pulls his hands in front of himself so he can scratch at the palm of his hand with a dull claw, expressing an insecurity Anduin isn’t sure he’s seen of Wrathion thus far.

“With you,” he says, “It’s different.

“Everything is.

“You’re the first person I’ve come across who challenges me.” His voice is very serious and he looks to Anduin again. “The first person who is on a side, but who doesn’t truly _have_ a side. You’re a part of this war and you want nothing to do with it, not even for it to end with a victor at its head.

“It fascinates me. And confuses me.

“Manipulating you would change what you _are_.

“I’m… not quite sure yet I want to do that.”

Anduin’s face slackens as he searches Wrathion’s hardened and thoughtful expression. It’s quiet for a moment and they can hear the clatter of dishes inside as Tong collects plates and silverware. A jeweled macaw shouts into the winds and lands on a cluster of trees not far from them, cheeping a few more times at its companion.

“And here I thought you were avoiding the question,” Anduin says, breathing it through a bit of a laugh. “But it’s never been honesty you feared, was it?”

“What question?” Wrathion breathes.

Anduin chuckles again. He shifts forward and crosses the spring to sit not far from Wrathion who watches him the way he watches nothing else—curious, but with absolute vulnerability.

“Where you will go.” His voice is much softer now, and his expression matches.

“Where I will go…”

“Yes. After you and the Champion are through learning the secrets of the Thunder King.”

“Ah. Of course.”

Silence again, and Anduin can feel the weight of it. He offers the towel over his shoulder to Wrathion to cover his own eyes with—an out for intimacy. An illusion of privacy.

Wrathion gives it a double take, between the towel and Anduin, but he takes it and leans back on the rocks, getting comfortable.

“I don’t have anywhere _to_ go,” Wrathion says.

“What about a home?”

“Azeroth is my home.”

He says it the way that Anduin would call Stormwind his own home, like he’s proud to be from there. Like he has some kind of legacy to uphold and fond memories from his childhood.

But Azeroth is merely… the planet. It’s everything. It’s everything Anduin thought there _was_ until the portal to the Outlands opened.

“But where were you born? Or… where will you settle down when the job is done?”

“The job is never done, my de—” Wrathion stops himself and chews the inside of his lip. “_Anduin_,” he amends softly.

There’s a hushed sigh that leaves his lips and Wrathion decides hiding behind the towel is childish. He rips it off and tosses it onto the rocks behind him.

“I don’t have a _home_,” he tells Anduin. “I am neither Horde nor Alliance, and have no purchase here in Pandaria. Perhaps I _could_ stay here forever. It’s a nice thought.

“But the dragonflights— There is none left to my own. I made sure I laid waste to their corruption. As for the others… They all have ties to _Alexstrasza_, and I would sooner give myself to the Old Gods than crawl back to my _magnanimous_ creator.

“So I do not.” He pulls his legs up onto the ledge beneath the water to wrap his arms around his knees, trying to keep his composure. “I do not have a home.”

There’s a soft pause as Anduin plans his words in his head, and Wrathion adds quickly, “I am quite fine with that, mind you. As an Earth Warden, I need nothing more than Azeroth herself. Do you see? Do you see why it is imperative she’s protected above all else?

“Even those who have nothing can come back to the earth. We are all her children and she will protect us as long as _we_ protect _her_. It’s my calling. It’s my—”

Wrathion stops, tensing as he feels a weight on his knee, and he looks down at Anduin’s hand before he slowly rises to match his gaze. Wrathion frowns at Anduin’s sympathetic expression.

“I did not ask for your pity.”

Anduin nods slowly. He knows.

“Listen to me Wrathion,” Anduin says, mindful of his every word. “Whether or not I condone your methods, I need you to know something.

“You’re a good person, and you deserve to be loved. You deserve to feel like you belong.

“Deathwing didn’t take that from you. Alexstrasza _can’t_ take that from you.

“I understand now why you’re on this quest for knowledge. You want to know everything so that you can’t ever be caught unaware. So that no one can take from you what you built up from the womb. Er— Egg.

“But to my point.

“I’m behind you, Wrathion.

“You said you aren’t sure if you want to change me, but… I don’t think I want to change you either. I just want you to know that I’m very glad we met, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

Anduin’s hand moves to take Wrathion’s, a light touch where only a couple of their fingers meet, ghosting over each other under the water line, far enough down where Wrathion can’t see it.

“If it’s knowledge you seek, that’s what I have to offer you,” Anduin says, and his own eyes are directed into the water as if he _can_ see. “The knowledge that I have an ear to lend when you want to talk, and a hand to take when you reach out and find nothing else to grab onto.”

It’s the first time Wrathion finds himself seeking that kind of knowledge. Maybe it was something he was seeking all along, but didn’t know if it was available to someone like him.

At first he takes Anduin by the wrist, and then he curls towards him, arms wrapping around Anduin’s shoulders. Anduin begins to return the hug before Wrathion transforms into his draconic form, smaller, and the perfect size for Anduin to cradle into his arms.

He can’t help his own smile creeping back onto his face as the small talons of Wrathion’s wings cling to him and the scratchy leather of the scales of his chin nuzzle into Anduin’s neck.

He can feel a soft vibration as Wrathion gets comfortable.

“Are you purring?” Anduin teases wryly.

Wrathion’s purrs cease immediately, one green eye opening to watch his friend. “Don’t forget, my _dear_ Prince. I _can _still bite.”


End file.
